- 22 Sep 2020 -
Unconnected paragraphs follow.
I occasionally feel like a child. An embarrassed. Silly. Child. An adolescent who has been living in spiritual fantasies, playing wizard and magician. When I was actually a child, I wasn’t all that into magic. I was more interested in the imagination, in fantastical futuristic or impossible worlds.
Now I’m here playing society. Using funny words like love and light and chaos. Having strange, phenomenal experiences of energy.
I am still afraid of what evils lie hidden in my psyche.
It is not my own shadow I am much scared of anymore. It’s when I realize I really am no one, and feel like I don’t who I am that starts to scare and distress me. Within that confusion there is a familiarity, and I remember that I have concluded that if I feel like this, I’m in fight or flight. In a physical state of panic I’ve disconnected from the rest of my thoughts and identity.
This society was not built for people like me, but this is not a sorrow. Rules are meant to be broken is not a saying, it’s experiential wisdom. Society is as society is. It is when we become conscious of our choices and take actions on our own, away from societal pressure, that we can find out what our story can be.
Left handed, creative, lover, poet people, now that there are many of us it is as if I already have many clones out there. I somehow continue to believe that out of the bunches of us based off this personality blueprint, I’m the one who makes it. This idea isn’t an impossibility to me anymore. Especially considering I don’t know what ‘making it’ is.
There are traits I do hold that I do not see in others with this blueprint. I do not see the same rate of or willingness to change. I do not see the abandonment of self. I do not see the treating of life as a game. I do not see the abandonment of reason and sanity, with the holding onto sense of sanity. Nor the still existing freedom from conformity and fixed thought, of childish behavior in adulthood. I do not find these traits to be better than any other, but I do see them as more of an anomaly than the other stories I see playing out around me.
At my lowest point, when I cannot find a light, I do fall back to memory of my vision now. When I was comforted by unknown people, when I had cried out to them that I had blown it, that it was over for me. When they told me not to worry, told me about someone like me, someone who snapped, then recovered, had turned out to be okay.
There is evidence in my story now that allows me to trust them more. Evidence that I have done things. I do change. I do create. I do finish what I start. I am productive. What helps the most though, is the support from others. It helps when others tell me they see me going somewhere. That does mean a lot.
The whole thing may be a sham. There may not be any real success stories in this world. No real expectation to meet. Maybe it’s only enough, if it’s enough to me.
What I can and probably will do, string my mind out as far as it will go, not with drugs, just with thought. Take my oxytocin binge as far out as it will go, have that massive serotonin crash and fall into a deep suicidal depression. Fire all cylinders.